Snake With Blue Eyes
by switmikan74
Summary: Alfred is bad for Arthur. But that doesn't stop him from fucking his life for so many times for one more American taste.


**Title:** Snake With Blue Eyes

 **Pairing:** USUK

 **Summary:** Alfred is bad for Arthur. But that doesn't stop him from fucking his life for so many times for one more American taste.

 **Note:** JerkandPlayboy!America is a yummy sight. More so if he is pining for England. USUK forever! XD

X

"You better take it from me." Francis said, cupping his left cheek, "That boy you're looking at? He used to be worse than me."

Angelique gave a snort at the older man's words, doubting that any man can be worse than Francis. If anyone can best the French, it would be the devil himself—just a point difference in their score.

"Him? Please. Look at the man!" She gestured at the unassuming twenty one year old leaning patiently in front of a closed classroom.

Francis smiled, "Oh mon cher, believe it or not, he used to be the playboy here. But only Arthur won the game he is playing."

"Eyebrows?"

"Oui, mademoiselle, Alfred was the snake but he was the one bitten instead."

X

It was too sudden, too fast when it begun.

Alfred loves fucking in general. He loves the pleasure, the sweat, the body pressing, skins slapping, squelches sounds made from entering someone, and he loves the gasps and shudders as he pushes the one beneath him into climax and finding his own. But what he loves most is the countless mind games and strategies he uses to get them pressed between him and any usable surface.

How he loves looking across the room and meeting someone's eyes, making it feel so cliché, walking towards them with a lopsided unassuming smile, and then making his move. He loves winning them over, taking them upstairs, anywhere would be fine, and leaves them a mess—ruined.

He finds a thrill in destroying cliché moments that usually start a great big love story.

It was at his twin's celebration party for winning hockey that he met Arthur. He stared at him long but Arthur never met his eyes so he walks towards him with the air of someone popular—big presence and all that shit that movies make of popular little kids in high school. Arthur doesn't look at him even when he is beside him, looking dazed and distracted. He taps him on his shoulder, offers him with a smile and asks him if he was okay. Arthur talks abundantly about many things, stumbling over words, slurring.

He offers Arthur another drink in a show of pretentious sympathy, sees him light up because of the cup, hears his British voice offer a thank you; he was sure the man was more than tipsy, bordering slutty drunk as he began to plaster himself on Alfred, flushed from alcohol and at the proximity, he noticed the paleness of the smaller man.

He was Alfred's type, that's for sure. He likes accents more than anything and green eyes and pale skin and British smaller men.

Alfred leaned, "Wanna go upstairs? You look tired."

Pressed between the wall and Alfred, surrounded by chattering drunk campus mates, Arthur drew a docile smile, nodding, thinking how kind the man for helping. Arthur looks so innocent but the innocence only lasted the moment the door of his brother's room closed and he pushes Arthur on the wooden door and the Brit moaned loudly to his touches that it inflated his ego more than anything else.

Arthur rode him that day like a little slut in a whorehouse.

Alfred left him there, barely clothed after the third round and Arthur exhausted himself too much. Arthur woke up with a splitting headache, ass that hurt, skin that are marked and the memory of cooing American voice, sky blue eyes, and smirking lips. He knew he fucked up.

And he will fuck up again soon after.

Arthur doesn't remember Alfred's face the next time they meet. But there was something about the boisterous man that made him look again and again. He was in the library then in the far corner of the room, hidden away by tall shelves of books. And the only people are him, Alfred, and the sleeping librarian in the front desk ways away.

Alfred was in the table in front of him and he is distracted by the shade of the other occupant's blue eyes and ghost of a smirk starting to bloom upon the too-handsome-than-it-is-fair face.

"Do I know you?" He said when the curiosity doesn't leave him be. Alfred gave a dark chuckle, low and rumbling and it sent shiver down his spine and somewhere else's, "Too drunk to remember the one that give you a ride?"

Arthur doesn't get it for a second before he remembers the cooing voice and the sky blue eyes and the smirk of that one night he fucked up a month ago—the one he sinfully fingers himself, catching the same wave of pleasure the mystery man gave him. His eyes widen and the smirk on the blonde's face blossom into a predatory leer.

"Wanna go upstairs?" Alfred teases before he went to Arthur's side and without too much words, pulled him by the collar and kissed him torrid. Arthur doesn't struggle because what is fucking up once going to save him from fucking up twice?

It wasn't silent sans the creaking of the table and the moans and the squelches sound of Alfred entering Arthur. And oh how Arthur dreamt of this every night since the party. It was the best lay he ever had and even in the month when he had gone to Francis for a fuck when he couldn't get enough of just fingering himself at the memory, it wasn't the same as Alfred does it.

"Alfred by the way." Alfred grunted in the middle of thrusting deeply inside and Arthur only moaned in pleasure at the feeling of Alfred's thick and long girth. It wasn't after he was buttoning up his shirt that Arthur was able to give his name and in return, Alfred gave him his number.

"Call me." He winked as he whistled out of the library.

Later that day, Arthur told Matthew about his blunder in the library with a heavy blush and when Matthew asked who, he never heard his friend groaned in frustration as vociferously as he did that moment. Lovino had laughed at the story because it was only Arthur who is foolish enough to not recognize Alfred as Matthew's twin brother.

"I fucking told him to leave you alone!" Matthew had cursed, deftly punching a wall as if it was Alfred's face. Arthur was understandably flustered, red in embarrassment, mortified that he had sex with his friend's brother. It was breaking code after code making him a hypocrite when he made a fuss when his big brother slept with the drunken Lovino (Lovino who has an on-and-off lover. Lovino who has an on-and-off lover who seems nice. Lovino who has an on-and-off lover who seems nice but will kill you with an ax if he ever catches you even staring at his little tomato).

"Oh bloody hell, I'm so stupid." He pushes his face on his hands, hiding them from the other three in the room. Kiku tilts his head, "Alfred-san gave you his number, right? That's odd."

"What's odd about it, Kiku? The guy just want to have sex with anyone who would booty call him." He muttered.

Matthew gave a heavy sigh, "Alfred never gives his number to his lay. But I discourage you from calling him, Arthur. He is bad for you. As his brother, I know he would just ruin you."

Arthur should have been listening closely to what they were saying—all the bad things that is Alfred F. Jones. But there's something about him that just make him want him more instead.

"Arthur, are you listening to me?"

He nodded but he doesn't hear what they say anymore.

X

Arthur calls Alfred when the day was well into the night and Alfred was in the middle of eating pizza in his dorm room—because he doesn't fuck every day of the year, sometimes he gets hungry too.

"H-hello…" British accent. Alfred perked up, "Hey."

"So… ummm…" Arthur stuttered and the American hears him breathe loudly in the other side of the line before he hears the Brit speaks again, "I have the room all to myself tonight and—"

Arthur doesn't finish because Alfred is already interrupting him with his questions—and he hurriedly give his room number. It turns out that their dorm is the same, only that they reside in different halls. Arthur is above him and takes the Hewitt entrance and exit. Alfred is in second floor and takes the Keating entrance and exit of the building. It is no wonder they don't meet each other because the two entrances is five hallways away at the ground floor.

When Alfred reached Arthur, there was not a second wasted and it was like the after party their first night together again. Arthur is on the bed on his arms and legs being fingered by Alfred. The slowness of the thrusts of the fingers tells him the teasing tale of Alfred. He fusses, "Hurry up already. How many fingers are you even using now?"

Alfred flexes, a grin in his tone, "Three."

Arthur gasped because Alfred added another one and he is thrusting faster and faster and then, "Ah!"

Alfred delighted at the tone, pushing his fingers on the spot sharply and heavily, and repeatedly. It wasn't much before Arthur comes and the Brit drops on the bed. Alfred clicks his tongue, "We're not finish yet, sweetheart."

Alfred enters him without warning. He looks at the pale skin in front of him before leaning down and biting. Arthur's neck and back are littered with marks, raw and red, like a warning sign. And it is turning Alfred on more and more as Arthur released a series of 'ah, ah, ah'.

"I can't… no… more…" Arthur says because the pleasure is too much—too much—too hot—Alfred is inside him again and again and _Ah! Ah! Ah!_

Alfred leaves him again when they finished. Arthur woke up feeling both satisfied and missing.

The first call lead them to many nights of fornications—a progress too fast and too sudden to be called normal. Their trysts are nothing more than good lays at the end of the day.

But they weren't exactly exclusive. They both understand that. Alfred still would go out with other people and ended up in their bed or floors—whichever is closest and most convenient. He's the resident playboy, he got to keep the name shining or it will rust.

Alfred would still go to parties and create a magical moment—an atmosphere ripped out cliché movies Arthur likes to watch, lines that would get them curling their tippy toes with wide eyed belief, luring and pulling and deceiving just to end up bare for his pleasure.

That's how Alfred rolls. That's who he is. That's who he'll ever be.

Arthur knew that. Because who would settle for him? Certainly not the player.

So Alfred went out with people because he is the player—the prince charming of a messed up fairy tale. He would create that ethereal moment that only leads to one night stands. And he would fuck people. He would fuck other people because he loves fucking in general.

Because they weren't exactly exclusive and Alfred knew that. He just wished he knew why he felt _disgusted_ with himself nowadays with seeing other people _when there is Arthur._

They don't keep their odd relationship a secret but it was only after four months into their settled arrangement that Matthew discovered their strange friendship when he walks in on them arguing in Alfred's room about Arthur's love for embroidery and unicorns.

It was the strangest sight he had ever seen because Alfred looks like he was enjoying himself keeping the needles and cloth away from Arthur's reach.

"What in the maple is happening?" He said and the two paused to stare at him. His brother looked annoyed at the interruption and Arthur looked as if he was about to strangle Alfred. Arthur huffed, "Your brother is being stupid."

"I am not! You're just too focused on your embroidering. I'm worried you might turn into a grandma if you don't stop!"

Matthew sent a warning look to Alfred before he sent another look to Arthur. Arthur recognized that look anywhere because Matthew only ever gave him that when he's doing something stupid—or rather doing someone stupid.

"Arthur."

He doesn't let Matthew continue on before he speaks, "I know. I can handle this. So please."

Alfred stared at his brother and Arthur before he figured it all out. He is smart—very, to say the least. He is majoring in Astrophysics, after all. Depicting the words and the expressions of the two, they're all just the tip of the iceberg of his ingenuity.

But even with the boosts of his smartness, it leaves him a bitter taste with how distrustful his twin is to him when it comes to the Brit.

"So what were you doing here, Arthur?"

Matthew is wrong with his thoughts because even if Arthur is often here these days, they don't always fuck because Alfred also gets hungry and Arthur also needs to study. Arthur comes over Alfred's room whenever Kiku goes into engineering mode, which is rather often this semester, and he needs the quiet to study. Alfred's room is quiet enough for him because Alfred owned the whole room to himself and Alfred doesn't play loud American music whenever Arthur opens his books. Sometimes, Arthur comes to Alfred just to read a novel or watch a movie or take a nap. Alfred would bitch about it but he doesn't kick him out.

Because Arthur's company is better than those lays he doesn't ever take home.

Alfred's cupboard has a special space for tea now. Chamomile tea. It's Arthur's favorite, the Brit said to him. And although he hated the taste of tea, he keeps buying a box because Arthur is a tea-addict and he doesn't function well without tea in his system and the smell pervaded his room now more than coffee and it reminds him of everything that is Arthur. Arthur buys him chocolate bars in return whenever he goes to a convenient store because Alfred likes chocolate when he is playing the games Kiku lent him. Sometimes, they eat out because Arthur can't cook anything and Alfred is afraid he'll die from food poisoning. Other times, they just eat inside and order take outs—Thai for Monday, Chinese for Tuesday, Indian for Wednesday, Mexican for Thursday.

But who got scheduled themed meals anyway?

"I'm taking a break from studying." Matthew nodded before standing up and walking out, saying something about meeting up with Gil.

It wasn't the last time Matthew gave Arthur the look. But he shrugs it. He fucks up too many times anyway, what is another more to the number, eh?

Alfred dramatically sighs when his twin finally leaves because he is feeling horny even before Matthew came, drops his pants and sat on the table in front of Arthur.

"Suck it."

Arthur did.

X

It is the hockey game and they are seen sitting together. Arthur claps politely whenever their college team scores a goal and Alfred would often hollers a "You suck!" whenever they don't and gets excited whenever the two teams are close to breaking into a brawl, an arm slung over Arthur's shoulder and Arthur doesn't pushes it away so it might be something, right?

Their college loses but the after party is still on because who can say no to free beer anyway? Arthur surely can't.

They are in Gilbert's house just blocks away from the campus. The whole team is drinking cups after cups in frustration but the party is still as loud as they could be. Arthur drinks by the table because he got separated from Alfred. Half an hour past and he still doesn't see Alfred so he goes around, bottle after bottle, and found himself lost amongst the sea of crowd. He was sure the American won't be able to see him now so he walks around some more until he found himself in front of a partly open door and he hears Alfred's breathy moans through it and even if he shouldn't, Arthur opens the slightly ajar division and sees Alfred under someone else.

The bottle drops but the occupants don't take notice.

Arthur doesn't return Alfred calls and they don't talk for a week and four days but who was counting? He avoids him like the plague and Matthew takes notice. He is in Arthur's room when Matthew finally asks, "Why aren't you in Alfred's lately?"

Arthur mumbles into his pillows, words too quiet for even Matthew to hear.

"Pardon?"

"I said I should have listened to you." He sat up, looked at his friend, and Matthew sees the redness of the usually clear greens of Arthur. He frowned in worry, "What happened?"

"Alfred is bad for me." Arthur started, "He had been bad for me since the beginning and I should have listened to you. I should have listened and I shouldn't… I shouldn't even be feeling this way… and…"

"Arthur. Arthur." Matthew crooned softly, "What happened? Tell me, okay?"

"Alfred slept with someone else a week ago on your after party. We aren't exclusive. I knew he is sleeping with other people. But seeing him… I just… maybe, I was hoping that he had stopped and I was the only one he is seeing. I was wrong and I should have listened to you because… because…"

"Because?"

"Because Alfred is bad for me but I ended up falling for that idiot."

The confession doesn't surprise Matthew because he sees the way Arthur looked at his brother but he also sees the way Alfred looked at Arthur. His brother is really an idiot sometimes.

X

Alfred asked his twin about Arthur the next time they meet. But his brother only glared at him, shooting a bitchy middle finger at his way.

"Matt, what the hell? I was only asking if Arthur is okay. You don't need to be a bitch about it."

Matthew turns his back at his twin, inhales a big deal of air before exhaling and turning back to his brother with a glare, "Arthur is fine and dandy. Francis asked Arthur out on a date and Arthur said yes."

Alfred blinked. "What?" The American doesn't say anything after that, seemingly taken aback to what he heard, taking the information a lot slowly than he usually does.

"That can't be, Mattie bro," He says with a chuckle, "Arthur and I…"

"are not exclusive. Arthur knows that. That's why he is going on a date with Francis tonight."

Matthew left without looking back. His brother is an idiot and he hopes he figures it out soon enough. He is a smart man but when it comes to the matters of the heart, he is a greenhorn—bumbling with such details and would probably self-destruct.

Alfred sulks at the information and feels a ball of betrayal and confusion and hurt writhing inside him because Arthur shouldn't be dating Francis, because he still has a lot to tell Arthur and amongst them all is an apology.

He fucked up last week that's why he would like to see Arthur so much. He needs to tell him about his last lay and that he felt horrible about it and tell him the things he has been keeping in.

Yet Arthur is going on a date with Francis. And it doesn't sit well with him.

X

Alfred finds himself in front of Arthur's room the very same day Matthew told him about Arthur's French date and he hears no one inside but he still knocks in hope of—

"What are you doing here?"

Alfred spun and sees Arthur with a raised brow, dressed in sweater vest and khakis, a book in his hand.

"I… uh…" A suffocating balloon forms in his chest and it is hard for him to say sorry when Arthur looks at him like he doesn't want him to exist, the greens of Arthur so shrouded in red and that's when he realized Arthur had been crying. He wanted to pull him in a tight embrace because even though he teases Arthur whenever he cries over sad movies, it still doesn't mean he likes seeing Arthur cry. But he doesn't because Arthur is still looking at him like he wishes him to disappear so he settled on awkwardly standing in front, obviously helpless and lost and wanting Arthur's warmth.

"Were you crying?" He couldn't help but ask and Arthur looks mortified at his question, quickly pushing him away from the door so he could unlock it, "It's none of your business."

His reply was quick as he enters his room and Alfred followed because he just wanted to be around Arthur as much, because when he is with Arthur, he doesn't dislike himself as much for being the way he is, and because he felt fuzzy and happy with Arthur and he _doesn't know exactly why_ he is.

"Were you?" He presses and Arthur turns to him with the same look he has every time they watched sad tragic romance Arthur loves and he is close to crying but refuses to do so, "I am. Are you here to laugh about it?"

"No. I'm here to ask why you were avoiding me." Arthur tenses and Alfred felt a pang at the way Arthur avoided his eyes at his words, not even daring to deny it. Alfred felt helplessly afraid, "You know, if you want to end it, you could have just told me instead of leaving me hanging. We ain't kids anymore so I could handle it if you tell me you don't want me anymore."

"But I still do." Arthur says after a heartbeat, gritting his teeth, and breaking apart, "I still do, okay? But Matthew is right. You're bad for me."

Alfred staggered, Arthur's words too direct for him, and feeling angry at his twin because he knew how right he is—how Matthew is always right. He has always been bad for everyone else. He is a wild little thing that ruins people and leave them satisfied but empty—knowing how someone like him could never be with someone like them, a wild one night that can't be tasted twice.

And yet Arthur tasted him far too many times.

"I'm sorry." Alfred tells Arthur because he came to apologize above all else, "Last week, I was fuck by someone else. I feel horrible about it because I stopped fucking others for three months now because every time I do, I felt like apologizing to you. I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry that I'm bad for you. And I'm sorry that Matthew and everyone else are right about me because I am a horrible person. But most of all, I am sorry that I got senselessly drunk last week and ended up with someone else when all I want is you."

Arthur grips his books before deciding to fuck it, turns around and grabs the nape of Alfred and kiss him hard, and it hurts so good and he misses this, he misses Alfred and he is stupid, a twat, and oh God, how he will fuck things for himself just for one more taste.

He is crying, Alfred noted, leaning away to stare at Arthur. He kisses the tears falling and felt them heavily on his tongue, "I'm sorry, Arthur."

"You are…" Arthur sobbed, clenching and wrinkling Alfred's clothes with his hands, "You are a stupid git. I hate you so much. I hate you so, so much. I wish you die right now. Wh—why did you sl—sleep with someone else? It hurts so much when I s—saw you there."

"You saw?"

Arthur nodded and Alfred felt uglier and he couldn't help but shut his eyes in despair because people like him shouldn't cry, because bad people don't deserve crying.

"I'm so sorry, Arthur." He tells the Brit because that is what he feels and swallowed the sobs into his kisses, peppering apologies as he did so, "I didn't mean to… I couldn't… I'm so sorry. I'm an asshole. I shouldn't even be here. I'm sorry. I should leave."

He began to pull away but Arthur's hands hold his face to stare at him, "Don't leave."

Arthur kissed him hotly, erasing anything on his mind, making him stay, making him not run away.

They are stumbling inside Arthur's room and Alfred is shoving Arthur roughly on Arthur's bed, wasting no time in untangling themselves from their clothes. The kisses are searing and biting and the pale skin of Arthur is a painting of red warning signs again—just like how Alfred always likes it. Arthur is mouthing on Alfred's juncture, biting, and then sinking his teeth between his shoulder blade and it turns Alfred's on more than anything because Arthur is being aggressive and needy and _oh God, there, just there._

Arthur palms Alfred's crotch until it is painfully hard and weeping, crawling down to its level and giving it a light blow of air. Alfred sees Arthur and release himself from his boxers and he was all hot all over when Arthur licks his lips at the sight of him. The view of Arthur kissing his cock, mouthing it inside of him, his pretty little mouth stretching over pushes him further and further into coming but he pushes Arthur's head away.

Arthur looks at him curiously. Alfred only gave a slight smile, uttering a number, "69."

Arthur obliged eagerly, too far now to refuse Alfred. Alfred pokes his tongue in Arthur's hole eliciting a moan, "That's… that's dirty there. Don't."

He doesn't listen and continues, sucking Arthur like he had been starved. Arthur continued with his own ministration and is rewarded with moaning gasps from Alfred. Arthur soon can't concentrate at anything else but Alfred's tongue inside him and he is writhing, struggling because he doesn't know what feeling he is having but he knows he enjoys it so, so much. When Alfred slides from his hole to give little nips to his cock before taking his whole length in, it was all he needed before he came and Alfred swallows it all. Arthur looked at Alfred, pupils wide and blown, and Alfred can't help but pull Arthur up and kissed him long and hard, tongues clashing—Arthur tasted himself but he doesn't mind because he is kissing Alfred and it has been so long since.

They fuck well into the night and don't stop until they are both exhausted and satisfied and full and marked all over.

"You shouldn't go on a date with Francis." Alfred says when they're close to sleeping but still not quite. Arthur languidly looks at him, "What are you talking about?"

"Matthew said Francis asked you to a date and you said yes."

Arthur sputters, disgusted at the thought of going on a date with the frog. Sure he is a good lay but it stops there.

"I never! I mean with him? When I'm in love with you?"

"In love?"

Arthur doesn't know why Alfred is grinning like a fool before he repeats himself in his head and a hot blush creeps all over his face and neck and ears and Alfred just stares at him stupidly, a light flutter in his chest.

"I mean…" Arthur averted his gaze because he can't lie his way out, because he doesn't want to lie his way out, "Yes."

Alfred nuzzled Arthur's nose, hugging the Brit tightly and feeling giddy all over because there were no denials and fights or whatsoever, there were just Arthur's confession and the happy feeling in his stomach, and them lying in the bed.

"Do you mean what you said?" Arthur asked quietly, feeling nervous all of a sudden, "When you apologize?"

It's scary waiting for someone's reply to a question that would either hurt you or patch you up. Arthur closes his eyes in fear. For a second it was silent and then he felt Alfred's lips on his closed lids, on his forehead, on his nose, on his cheeks, on his jaw, and then on his lips.

"Yes."

Alfred's sky blue eyes are electric in their sincerity. And Arthur felt like crying all over again because he fucks up too many times in his life but Alfred is something he couldn't regret—would never regret.

"Would you ever leave me…?"

X

"You're joking, right?" Angelique lifts a brow, "Surely someone like Alfred won't settle with Eyebrows."

Angelique doesn't want to believe Francis because Alfred looks like someone from a fairy tale, someone who could be someone's knight-in-shining-armor or someone's prince charming; he looks nothing like the devil or a snake for that matter. She doesn't want to believe that Alfred used to be the biggest playboy in town and that Arthur is the only one who tamed him enough to fall.

But Alfred's eyes lights up when the closed room opens and Arthur exits with Toris, bounding over to the Brit and immediately holding his hand out like a puppy happily returning to its master's side. And Arthur excused himself from Toris and took Alfred's hand. And they both stare at each other with _something_ in their eyes that Angelique couldn't believe it, refused to believe it.

Because only in movies that the playboy changes and falls for the heroine. Not in real life.

Francis smiled at the sight, "Oh cher, you are far too unfamiliar with the ways of the world. You should have seen them two years ago."

X

I was listening to Cowboy Casanova and this turns out. I want a jerk!America who fell in love more. I wish people would write some. Also, I would like a yandere!America too because I have a thing for Yandere!AmericaXEngland.

Also the story should have been Arthur and Alfred knowing each other ever since they are six and Alfred turned into a playboy when he fucks up on his fourteenth birthday because he confessed to Arthur that day but he ended up drunkenly fucking someone else. Therefore breaking Arthur's heart. He tried to confess again but Arthur always brushes it off because Alfred is _the player_ of their high school _and_ college. Then one night on a party, Arthur and Alfred ended up having sex which is cool for Alfred because he is still in love with Arthur.

But Arthur is not fine with it. Alfred insisted it to be just casual so they began fucking. Arthur falls in love but rejects Alfred's advances because he is afraid and still remembers Alfred's mistake on his birthday. But in the end, Alfred gets Arthur blah blah blah and all those shit. But I was stuck at the part after Alfred said it was just casual and changes the whole story. **If you like the original plot, you can PM me for permission to use it.**

Also, writer's block for both Of Devious Omega Days and When Worlds Collide. But gonna try writing, do not fret. XD

If anybody is interested for a prompt, PM me. I'll give you one.

Review please.


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